


Eggshells & Coffee Grounds

by BloodFrost



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, kylux - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren Fluff, Awkwardness, Crushes, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluffy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gay Male Character, Getting to Know Each Other, I Ship It, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Kylux - Freeform, Kylux is my OTP, M/M, One True Pairing, Romantic Fluff, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-10-31 18:02:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17854514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodFrost/pseuds/BloodFrost
Summary: Against his desires, at the insistence of his mother, Ben Solo finds himself enrolled at the state’s college. While he enjoys the freedom that apartment dorm living gives him, he’s still left with feelings of loneliness and isolation.Then one day, an odd, red-headed boy from the apartment complex across the way knocks on his door ... and sets in motion a series of new and surprising changes in Ben’s life.





	Eggshells & Coffee Grounds

Ben Solo sighed as he stared down at his psychology book, trying hard to motivate himself to do his homework. Taking a psychology course hadn’t been in his plans (he believed most of that stuff was made up mumbo-jumbo), but this class was a requirement for first year students, so Ben was stuck with it, whether he wanted to be or not.

And this whole college thing had never been in Ben’s plans to begin with. He’d intended to graduate high school and go straight for a local mechanic-training school. The cost of doing so would be drastically cheaper, and Ben knew several guys that had gone before him, all of whom now had steady, good-paying jobs in their field.

“Mechanic school?!”, his mother had exclaimed, when he mentioned it to her one day. “Are you joking? Do you honestly believe I worked my behind off just to see you rutting underneath someone’s car, or fixing somebody’s refrigerator?”

Ben had just sighed, knowing it would be useless to make a comment back. His mother was always going on about how hard it was to support him as a single mother, ever since Ben’s father had walked out when Ben was about 12. So he tried to reason with her instead, telling her of the financial and vocational benefits of his plan, only to be met with resounding rejection with every word.

“Ben ... you’re going to college. _Real_ college. Now tonight there’s an informational seminar at the civic center, about how to go about applying for schools and financial aid and all that. We’re going.”

“Don’t you work tonight?”

“Yeah, I do. But I’m calling in. Do you think that this piddly job means more than your future, baby? Do you think I want to see YOU doing the same things when you grow up? A bachelor’s degree is just a piece of paper, but it’ll mean SO much, and open so many doors, in the long run.”

So Ben had reluctantly gone, reluctantly applied for schools, and then, reluctantly, enrolled in ‘real’ college. Ben had only applied to a handful of schools, but, unsurprisingly, he had been accepted to all of them. Although Ben was generally quiet, he was no dummy; he had some of the highest testing scores in his high school.

So he’d picked the school closest to home, one in the northernmost region of their state, Akbar University. Although it was the closest it was still fairly far away, clocking in at an impressive six and a half hour drive from his home.

Ben appreciated his new living situation, at least. He had assumed there would be dorms where he would have to have a roommate. But the university held several apartment complexes grouped around the school, and each set of complexes housed different class levels. The freshman complex consisted of two wide gray-white buildings, separated in the back by a small garden area and a little pond. Each student got their own apartment, which consisted of a small bedroom, kitchen, bathroom with shower, and a decent sized carpeted living room. Each apartment also had a balcony, which Ben liked to sit on during warm nights.

Now here it was, several weeks in to school, and Ben was slowly adjusting to his new life. His grades were still exceptional, and he was getting used to taking care of himself rather than depending on his mother for everything.

He was fortunate in that his financial aid and several small scholarships covered everything. The only problem was, there wasn’t much money left over for personal use. The school offered three free meals a day to it’s students, and Ben would take advantage of that as often as possible, going into the campus cafe to grab a bite before or after classes.

However, Ben was a serial snacker. He had always had an active, healthy appetite, and three squares a day just wasn’t enough for the tall boy. He was fortunate that Leia could afford to send him money every now and again, but he didn’t want to have to keep relying on her forever. So he carefully budgeted what she did send him, using the funds for clothes and some basic food items for the kitchen.

He was managing ...

... but he could always use more money.

He had been actively looking for a part time job to help remedy this situation, but unfortunately most of what he could find was either too far away (and would end up costing an eventual fortune in cab rides or bus fare), OR they interfered with his current class schedule.

He was thinking about this one night, sitting in his living room with his homework on the table below him, when a rapping on the front door pulled him from his thoughts. 

He opened the door on a slender, pale, blue-eyed red-headed boy. He looked to be the same age as Ben, maybe a year older, and was nearly as tall.

“Yes?”

“Hi,” the stranger said, immediately extending his hand. Ben took it hesitantly; he wasn’t much one for handshakes. “My name is Hux,” the boy continued, smiling. He let go of Ben’s hand and turned, pointing to the complex across the yard. “I live just over there, Apartment 22-D.”

“Okay?”

“Um, this is gonna sound strange, but please, hear me out. I’m a photography major at school. You go there, too, right?”

 _Obviously,_ Ben thought to himself, annoyed, _Or else why would I be living in the dorm apartments?!_

“Yeah. Name’s Ben.”

“Ben Solo, right?”

Ben blinked, startled. Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “How in the hell do you know my last name?”

“Er, the mailbox,” Hux said, pointing to the small metal rectangle that hung outside of Ben’s door. Ben looked, and felt his face flush a bit in embarrassment; this was the first time he’d noticed that his (and probably all the other dorm mailboxes) bore the last name of the tenant.

“Sorry,” Ben muttered, running his hand through his hair. “That was rude of me.”

“It’s okay. “I actually already knew that because I’ve seen you in the campus library before. You were doodling the word ‘Solo’ at the top of your papers. Two days ago, I noticed you out on your balcony, and I realized you lived by me. Can I ask what you were watering?”

 _He certainly observes a lot,_ Ben thought to himself. _And he’s got a really strong energy to him, like he’s all hopped-up on sugar or something._ Oh, crap; was this guy one of those weirdo stalkers? Ben was in two minds about answering his question, but then decided that the guy _seemed_ harmless enough. So Ben folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe, still feeling wary and confused. “I’m trying to grow strawberries. Did ... did you really come all the way over here to ask me that?”

Hux shook his head, and now he was blushing. “No! Um, okay; so I said I’m a photography major, right? Well, our semester-long project is to do a time-lapse photo of a chosen scene in nature. You know, where you take the same picture, in the same position, for a lot of weeks in a row?”

“Okay?”

“Okay. So, I chose to do mine on the sunrise. It’s the most beautiful time of day, to me, and the sky has some of the best colors at that time. Uh, but, unfortunately, my apartment is facing in the wrong direction for that. I’ve been coming out and standing down there,” he said, pointing into the courtyard, “But so far the pictures I get from down there are kinda disappointing. So ... and I know this is gonna sound weird, but; would it bother you very much if I used your balcony, to take my daily picture from? Your place is directly in the center, and in an ideal place to see the whole sunrise.”

Ben just stared at him, eyes wide. This was such an odd request, and the fact that it was coming from a complete stranger made it even odder. Before Ben could answer, Hux went on:

“It’d be every day, until the end of December. I realize that getting up so early to let me in would be really annoying, but, I could compensate you? Say, $25 a month?”

Ben thought about that carefully. This could go a bit towards the money issue he was currently facing. $25 a month wasn’t _that_ much, but it would certainly come in handy for little things, like bus fare, or groceries.

Every little bit counts, as his mother would say.

“Okay. You’ve got a deal,” Ben said, nodding. “When do you want to start?”

“Really? Thank you!”, Hux exclaimed, looking relieved. “Is tomorrow okay?”

“That’s fine. What time does the sun come up?”

“About 5:30am,” Hux said, looking nervous again. “But I’d probably get here around 5:15, to set up my camera and stuff. You’re positive that’s not too early for you?”

“Nah. Okay, see you tomorrow. Knock real loud in case I don’t hear it at first,” Ben told him, then closed the door on the smiling redhead. 

The next morning, even though he had set his alarm 10 minutes earlier than Hux’s intended arrival time, the knocking on the door still startled him. He hadn’t bothered to really get dressed, still wearing the old T-shirt and baggy sweatpants he had slept in. After all, Hux didn’t look like he’d mind.

“Good morning!”, Hux said brightly, as Ben opened the door. “A. Hux here, reporting for duty, sir!”

Ben barely kept from rolling his eyes, as he let him in. 5 in the morning and still with that ridiculous energy. “‘Morning,” he replied back, as he closed the door behind them. Hux was armed with a metallic fold-up tripod stand balanced under one arm, and on his other was a somewhat large square gray canvas bag with a single long strap, clearly holding a camera inside.

“Sorry it’s so shitty in here,” Ben said, busily picking up trash or pushing things to the side in an effort to clear a path to the balcony door. “How much does that thing weigh, anyway?”, he asked, gesturing to Hux’s bag.

“This? Around 10 pounds, including the stand. Maybe a little more.”

Ben just shook his head, but said nothing. This seemed like a lot of effort to go through, for a school project. They had reached the balcony and Ben pulled open the sliding glass door, shivering a little in the cool morning air.

“Be careful of the plants.”

Hux nodded, picking his way carefully around the pots and setting down the stand. As he adjusted the legs, he said, “You’re trying to grow strawberries, you said?”

Ben nodded, pulling his arms back into his sleeves. Jeez, it was cold out here. “Yeah. These are the little ones, that stay in the pot. Each plant won’t give much; maybe a dozen berries each. IF the stupid things ever grow, that is.”

“Hm,” Hux said, placing his camera on the stand and looking through the lens. As he adjusted the settings, he asked,

“Do you drink coffee?”

“Er, no. Why?”

“Oh. It’s just that I heard that if you mix up used coffee grounds and egg shells, it makes a pretty good fertilizer. Maybe that would help.”

Ben thought about that as Hux made his final adjustments to his camera. Just in time, too: the morning sky was delightfully clear, and a brilliant ball of red, gold and pink was pushing its way through the misty clouds. 

Hux stood behind the lens, and the old machine made a ka-chaw noise he snapped the picture.

“That’s gonna turn out really nice,” Hux said, smiling as he began to once again pack the camera into its bag.

_He’s willing to pay me $25 a month to stand out here for like, 2 minutes, and take one picture?_

“Where do you take an old camera roll like that, to be developed?”

“Oh, we do it in the school lab ourselves. Part of our grade.”

“Seriously? You know how to do all that?”

Hux nodded, and began following Ben back through the house. “Yup. I actually have a little advantage over most of the other students, because I was in photography club in high school so I have experience in a dark room.”

“Yeah, me too. My favorite color is black, so at home my bedroom was ALWAYS a ‘dark room’.”

He had said that as a joke, not really thinking that Hux would get it. So he was surprised when the redhead burst out into a deep guffaw. When he stopped, he said, “That’s a good one!”

They were at Ben’s front door now, and Hux stepped into the hallway, the stand in his arms and the camera bag bumping against his side. “Thanks, Ben. Oh!”, he exclaimed, reaching into his pocket. “Here, before I forget.”

He held out a twenty-dollar bill and a five-dollar bill to Ben, who took it and shoved it into his own pocket, after mumbling a “Thanks.”

Hux nodded, then gave him a little one-armed wave as he walked away, whistling as he went. Ben watched him for a moment and then went back inside, locking the door behind him. He looked at the clock; 5:47am. He first class wasn’t until 10:30, more than enough time for him to lay back down and catch a couple more hours of sleep.

As he laid back down and pulled the covers up to his neck, a sudden thought occurred to him: Hux, was really rather skinny. Although he had carried the camera bag and its stand here with what SEEMED like relative ease, deep down Ben thought that it was probably strenuous for him to do so.

“I’ve got all that space in that one closet I don’t use,” Ben said as he flipped over towards the wall, hardly away of the fact that he was speaking out-loud. “I think tomorrow I’ll tell him that he can just leave his stuff here, so that he doesn’t have to haul it back and forth each morning.”

And then he thought of something more: when Hux had given his greeting this morning, he’d called himself A. Hux. So ... Hux was his last name, not his first? What did the ‘A’ stand for? Arnold? Adam? Andrew? 

It was on this note, thinking of possible A names, that Ben fell back to sleep, breathing lightly into his pillow.

—-

“Do ... do you want a cup of coffee?, Ben asked him, feeling remarkably strange in doing so.

“Coffee?”, Hux repeated, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you said you didn’t drink coffee?”

It was about a week later, and Hux had been coming over like clock-work every morning. The last few days he’d run into a spell of bad luck; it was rainy, and the best pictures he could get of the ‘sunrise’ were the gray-pink areas of clouds were the sun was supposed to be. Today, however, it was wonderfully clear, and warmer than usual.

Most of the time, Ben just let Hux in and let him find his own way into the balcony, alone. He had done as he’d intended, telling Hux that he could keep his camera gear in the closet, for which Hux was expectedly grateful. 

Today, on impulse, Ben called out to Hux as he was coming back inside and putting his gear neatly back into the closet, asking him to join him in the kitchen. 

“I don’t,” Ben answered Hux’s obervation now, with a small grin, “But my apartment came with a coffee maker, and I remembered what you said about that fertilizer stuff. So I make a pot every day with my eggs. Usually I just dump the liquid down the sink and take out the filter, but since you’re here, well ...”

“I’d like a cup,” Hux answered, smiling. He followed Ben into his little kitchen, sitting down gingerly in the chair.

“I didn’t buy like, creamer, for it though,” Ben said, his back to Hux as he poured a cup. “But I have milk? Or sugar?”

“That’s ok. I usually just take it black, anyway.”

Ben made a face as he brought the cup over to Hux, setting it down in front of him. “So just plain? Isn’t that gross?”

“Kind of, BUT it’ll give you the most energy through the day.”

Ben just shrugged and sat down across from Hux. It didn’t seem like the wiry redhead needed anymore energy than he already had; after all, look at how lively and awake he was so early in the morning every single day.

Right now, though, Ben was at a bit of a loss for words. Social customs like this were wholly unfamiliar to him; so were intimate, one on one settings with others. What did people talk about, anyway? Sports? The weather? 

Before Ben could make an attempt at conversing, Hux said, after taking a sip of coffee, “So what’s your deal?”

“Huh?”

“What are you majoring in at school?”

“Oh. Um, I’m not sure yet. Still undeclared.”

“Hm. Well, what do you like to do?”

“Ah, well, I really like drawing. But the only problem is, sometimes I think my drawings really, really suck.”

“Well, I think my photography skills suck, but I’m still doing it. Sometimes you just have to do something you love, even if you think you suck at it.” 

“I guess,” Ben said, getting up. The conversation was making him slightly uncomfortable ... but at the same time, he didn’t want Hux to leave yet. Something about his presence was soothing, in a way.

So Ben pulled a frying pan out of the cabinet and said, “You want some eggs?”

“Sure!”, Hux agreed, and the way he said it gave Ben the impression that Hux hadn’t quite wanted to go yet, either. 

_He must be lonely,_ Ben thought to himself. He set to work mixing up ingredients for omelettes, carefully setting the cracked shells in a bowl for his fertilizer mix later.

“Anything you absolutely don’t like? Or are allergic to?”

“Nope, and nope,” Hux said, shaking his head. “I’m not picky.”

_Not picky? Come on; you’d have to be. You’re ridiculously thin._

Hux talked to him for a bit about school, until Ben finished his omelette and brought it over to him, with the salt, pepper, and a fork. 

“Bon appetit,” Ben said, as he turned back to make his own.

“Holy fuck!”, Hux exclaimed after a few moments, making Ben jump so hard that he nearly dropped his spatula. 

“What?!”

“This ... this is like a mouth-orgasm! What’s IN this?”

“Er, green onion, crushed red pepper, cilantro, parsley, and shredded taco cheese.”

“Taco cheese?”

“Yeah,” Ben said, turning back to the pan. Although he felt Hux was overreacting a bit, he couldn’t help but smile, at the compliment. It made him feel good, in a way few other things did. “Most people put like, American cheese, or cheddar, into their eggs. But I found out a long time ago that if you put in taco cheese, it makes it taste like, ten times better.”

“It really does. It’s like smooth, but it has a kick.”

Ben’s omelette was finished, so he brought his over to the table, along with his favorite condiment from the fridge.

“Of course, I always ‘ruin’ all my eggs by putting ketchup over them, anyway.”

Hux scrunched up his face. “Ketchup on eggs? But this tastes so perfect on its own. And ketchup by itself is like, the worst of the worst. What are you, a monster?”

Now it was Ben’s turn to make a face. “What? You don’t like ketchup? That’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard, man.”

“Ugh, it’s vile. Ketchup is just a bunch of failed tomatoes squeezed together in a bottle.”

Ben chuckled at that. This was strange, but he couldn’t remember the last time he had actually shared a meal with another person. He had been alone since he’d come here, after all; and back home, his mother worked so much that they rarely had a chance to eat together.

“What do you put on fries, then?”

“What do you mean? Fries are fine by themselves.”

“Good God, there’s a verified psychopath sitting in this kitchen,” Ben said, taking a drink of milk.

“I know, but since he’s made me breakfast, I won’t turn him in to the cops just yet,” Hux retorted, setting both of them to laughing.

—-

“Ugh, I’m sorry,” Ben said sheepishly, holding open the door. “I made you miss the sunrise.”

It was the end of the following week, and Ben had leapt up in a panic, realizing that he’d slept through the alarm he always set to let Hux in. It was already after 8am ... and Ben heard knocking at the door.

“Fuck the sunrise; are YOU okay?”, Hux asked now, seeming worried. Ben drew back a bit in the face of the redhead’s unexpected concern; he wasn’t used to anyone caring about him. “I came at the usual time but you didn’t answer, so I thought maybe you had an emergency or something. This is my second time coming back to check on you.”

“Er ... I’m okay. Well, no, not really. I think I have the stomach flu or something. Either that or that fish I ate last night was bad. But I’ve been up puking since like midnight. I guess I fell asleep around 4. But I’m sorry that —“

“You don’t have to apologize for being sick,” Hux said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Do you have medicine and stuff?”

Ben nodded, even though he didn’t, not really. He had taken what little Pepto Bismul he’d had last night — not that it seemed to be helping much. But still ... something about Hux standing here, so clearly invested in what was going on with him ... it made Ben feel funny. And guilty.

“I’m fine. Er, I know it’s too late, but ... do you still want to come in? Maybe you can take a picture of the sun now and put it in with the others, maybe with a funny caption like “It snuck past me today”?”

“Ben, if you don’t shut up about the sun! Missing a day isn’t gonna kill me. Your health is important, you know. Next time, just text me or something and tell me that you’re not up to me visiting.”

Ben startled to chuckle at that, and the movement in his throat caused him to start coughing. God, this _hurt_! His whole chest was vibrating with sharp pain ... but he didn’t want Hux to know that. So he quickly made himself stop, and explained why he was laughing to Hux:

“I can’t text you, man; I don’t even have your number!”

“Oh ... yeah, thats right. Um ... hold on ...”

He dug into his pocket and came up with a balled-up gum wrapper. He unfurled it as best he could, using Ben’s doorframe as a straightener, and then took a pen out of his pocket.

“Here,” he said, scribbling a number on the whitest part of the wrapper, “Now you’ve got it. Text me if you need me to hold off a few days. Or like, if you need anything while you’re sick. Okay?”

“Okay,” Ben said, taking the wrapper and looking at it carefully. Either Hux’s handwriting was sloppy, or Ben’s vision was blurring. Whichever the case, he felt that if he didn’t go and lay down soon, he’d pass out. “Thank you, Hux.”

Hux nodded and backed away from the door. Was it Ben’s vision messing with him again ... or was Hux’s face kinda red? 

“Feel better,” he called over his shoulder, as he walked away.

Before Ben went to lay down, he put Hux’s number into his phone, then crawled slowly and miserably into bed.

Ben drifted in and out of rough sleep all day. He noted that he could probably make an entire blanket out of all the Kleenex’s he had used ... and if he didn’t pace himself, he was going to run out of water bottles. 

“I’ll drag myself out and buy some in the morning,” he told himself groggily. He glanced at the clock: 1am. Where had the day gone? He picked up his phone, playing with it in his hands. Was it too early (or too late) to send Hux a text?

After debating for awhile, he took a deep breath and tapped out:

_hey. it’s Ben. still feel like shit, might not hear you knock. I have a spare key, I’m gonna leave it for you under mat. let yourself in, in morning, for picture._

And then he drifted back off into a restless sleep.

Ben didn’t wake up until almost noon the next day, his exhaustion from the previous night of spotty sleep having caught up to him. He pulled himself out of bed and into the bathroom, thankful that, whatever this sickness was, at least the nausea stage of it seemed to be over. It was only after forcing himself into a much-needed shower that he even thought of Hux, wondering if he’d come over that morning. 

As he walked out into the kitchen, he paused in the doorway, confused. On the table was a 24 pack of water bottles, several cans of soup, a box of herbal tea, and a bottle of extra-strength Theraflu.

What the hell—?

He quickly went into the bedroom and picked up his phone, where a text from Hux was waiting. 

**thanks for leaving a key, Ben. I left you some stuff on your kitchen table. hope you feel better soon!**

What in the world did this guy _want?_ What was his deal?

“He can’t just want to be my friend,” Ben said, hardly aware that he was speaking out-loud. “Because —“

Because nobody had ever wanted to be friends with the tall, quiet boy. Ben had been a loner, an outsider, since he was a child. He never preferred to speak or open himself up to anyone, and had had difficulty making (and keeping) friends his entire life. So the concept of Hux wanting to be his friend, was staggering to him. There had to be _something_ , right? Some ulterior motive to this unexpected kindness?

He sighed, then coughed. He was still tired. 

“Oh, well,” he said to himself, picking up one of the cans of soup. “At least now I have something that I can eat.”

Before he got up to make the soup, he picked his phone back up. He knew he needed to thank Hux, but he felt incredibly awkward in doing so. 

_What works when you can’t find the words for something?_

A gif!

A gif would be the perfect response: funny, appropriate, and not too serious.

After some searching, he finally found the perfect one: a cartoon character, clasping his hands together in prayer, with the words Thank You appearing above its head.

He waited for a reply, but none came. Eventually he fell back asleep.

When he woke up, he saw that Hux had “loved” his gif; a little red heart was fixated to the left side of the gif. Ben smiled, then got out of bed, sliding his phone into his pocket.

He felt much better today.

—-

One of Ben’s favorite places on campus was what was referred to as the Student Study Lounge. It was a huge, carpeted area, surrounded by tables, individual desks, several plush leather couches, and huge, comfy chairs. To the left of this area was a small cafe, where one could get things like sandwiches, pastries, or assorted beverages, to eat while you worked.

Ben was in there now, sitting in the farthest back-right corner, on one of the couches. The small table in front of him contained his open backpack, several of his books, and the remains of a turkey club sandwich and can of soda. He had a big test coming up in his psychology class in a few days, and thought that a change in atmosphere might aid his studying process.

This place wasn’t like the library, where everyone was expected to be absolutely quiet. All around him, small groups were talking and laughing with one another. Ben found the continuous background noise to be somewhat soothing.

He was in the middle of reading through his notes, when a familiar voice said, “I’ve never seen you in here before.”

Ben looked up into Hux’s smiling face, and found that he couldn’t help but smile, himself. Hux had his backpack slung over his shoulder, and a small carton of chocolate milk clutched in his hand.

 _Just like a little kid,_ Ben thought with a chuckle.

“I’m here all the time, actually. You probably just don’t see me because I’m hiding in the corner here a lot.”

“Maybe. What are you doing?”

“Studying. I have a test on over 10 chapters in my psychology class on Friday, and I missed like 2 classes when I was sick so I’m a little behind.”

“Do you ... do you want some help? I got an A in a psych class my senior year of high school,” Hux offered, and Ben noticed that he was blushing unusually hard for such a casual offer.

Ben moved to the left of the couch and shoved his backpack and food over on the table, making room for Hux’s stuff. “That’d be great, actually.”

Hux sat down eagerly, putting his backpack and milk on table next to Ben’s.

Once things got underway, Ben was surprised, at how organized Hux was. He was quickly able to determine Ben’s problem areas, and made up flash-cards on the more difficult materials, from a bundle of notecards he’d had in his pack.

 _He has such a slow, calm way of speaking,_ Ben thought as they went over the material. _And he doesn’t make you feel stupid when you get an answer wrong. He’d probably make a great teacher._

But still ...

“I hate this,” Ben said with a sigh, pausing to take a drink of his Coke. “I feel like I’m never gonna use like, 95% of what I learn in this class. Feels like such a waste of time.”

“Not your cup of tea?”

“Nah. None of this really is. I ... I was actually gonna go to mechanics school,” Ben confessed, taking another sip of his soda. “But, um, my mom ... she got really upset when I said that.”

“Mechanics school? So you’re good at fixing things?”

Ben nodded. “Well, yeah. I mean I kinda HAD to be, you know?”

“What do you mean?”

“My, ah, my dad left us when I was like, 12. So it was kinda up to me to know how to fix stuff in our house, right? Like when the washer broke down, or the lawnmower busted a blade. No money for extra stuff like repairs, so if something broke, I’d look up ways to fix it. After awhile I got to be pretty good at it. So I thought, you know, why not make a career out of that?”

Hux nodded thoughtfully, taking a sip of his milk. Ben noted with amusement that Hux had a small chocolate mustache forming above his upper lip. “Makes sense ... but, do you LIKE fixing stuff? Like if that was your career, would you want to do that every day?”

Ben shrugged uncomfortably. “You know, sometimes it’s not what we like, but what we’re good at. And what can make money.”

Here he looked up. He knew his face was red: he didn’t think he had ever told those personal parts of his life to anyone before, and he felt a little embarrassed at doing so. But looking at Hux, he found no judgment, just an earnest curiosity; so Ben went on:

“Like, I really like drawing. But so do a lot of people; and most of them are probably better at it than me. To be talented enough to create like, a graphic novel, or comics, or be an artist or creator for a cartoon; THAT would be my ideal life, my ideal future. But what are the chances of that happening, you know? So the smart thing is to pick something else you’re good at, but can also make money. Even if you don’t ‘love’ it, at least you’ll survive, right?”

Instead of answering Ben’s question directly, Hux leaned back into the couch and said, “I relate to what you said, about your mom being upset at the mechanics thing. My dad was like that, too. My senior year, I was offered an internship with our local newspaper, as a junior photographer. But dad talked me out of taking it. Said that the internship would only be a temporary thing, and when they got ‘sick’ of me, I’d be left with nothing.”

He paused, fiddling with his drink. “Maybe he was right. Maybe not. Sometimes I wake up and I think about it, though. Like, what it could have been like, following around reporters, snapping the pictures for their stories.”

“What about your mom? What did she say?”

“Ah, well, my mom is kinda like your dad, I guess. They got divorced when I was 5, and she remarried like a year later. She and her new husband didn’t have any kids, though. But, I don’t know, I didn’t see a lot of her after that. Dad got custody of me, and for a while I used to see mom every other weekend. Then it changed to, only if I felt like seeing her, or if like, I asked her to come to something at school. She calls me once in a while, but the last time I actually SAW her was, uh, I guess about a year ago? Something like that.”

“She didn’t go to your graduation?”

Hux shook his head. “No. She and her husband were on a trip overseas, and wouldn’t have been back in time.”

Ben didn’t say anything, but inside, he was somewhat angry. This boy in front of him was always so friendly, so energetic, so fucking eager to please others and be helpful ... and his own mother couldn’t have scheduled her goddamn vacation so that she could see her son walk the stage?

Now Hux was asking him, “Do you talk at all to your dad?”

“Sometimes. He called me on MY graduation day, to congratulate me. And he sent me a money order as a gift. From time to time he’ll text me and ask how I’m doing, but it really doesn’t go beyond that.”

“You said your parents divorced when you were twelve?”

“No. They were never married. Twelve is just when he left. But ... you wanna hear something really funny?”

Hux nodded.

“He was apparently cheating on my mom way before that. I found out, from the lady herself. She ... she contacted me, and said that _my sister_ really wanted her ‘big brother’ to come to her birthday party. I was so shocked; my dad had told me NOTHING about him having another child.”

“Seriously?”, Hux asked, fascinated. “That’s insane!”

Ben nodded. “It was. This was like, two years ago, when I was 16. My sister, her name is Rey. She’s almost ten years younger than me. But she’s so smart, and she’s really really sweet. She got an iPad for her last birthday, and sometimes she’ll FaceTime me, telling me about school and stuff. I’m glad I met her, even if it was a complete surprise.” 

Hux didn’t respond for a while, and then he said, softly, “I don’t know how I would have handled it, if I found out I had a hidden sibling somewhere. But, I dunno, I might have liked that. It’s really fucking lonely when you grow up on your own, and the one parent you have left works like, ALL the time.”

Here he looked up, right into Ben’s eyes ... and something in the latter’s heart jumped and twisted so hard that Ben actually let out a small gasp, at the unsettling sensation. But Hux didn’t seem to notice this, or, if he did, he was tactful enough not to bring it up. Instead, he switched gears and asked,

“Why haven’t I seen any of your work?”

“H-huh?”

“You said you like to draw. People I’ve known in the past who were artists usually had some of their work hanging up around their homes. But the walls of your apartment are just as blank and empty as anything.”

“Oh. Um. Back home, I have like, a hundred old sketchbooks in my bedroom. I’ve had at least 3 a year since, uh, probably middle school. I haven’t bought a new book this year, though.”

“Why?”

Good lord, why did this guy ask so many questions?? And what the hell did he care about Ben’s stupid little doodles, anyway? 

_How can I explain it to him?_ , Ben thought to himself, miserably. _How can I explain that the urge to draw sometimes is so strong I’ll wake up out of a dead sleep with my hand sketching the air? How do I explain that every time I go to the store and look at sketchbooks, something in my mind or my fucking heart, I dunno which, keeps me from buying one?_

Ben was about to open his mouth anyway, and attempt an explanation, when something, some thing inside (maybe that same something that prevented him from drawing) held him back. Something was happening here with Hux, something be couldn’t directly name ... but it was making him uneasy. The words ‘too close!’ kept appearing in flashes in his mind, and, although he didn’t get exactly what it meant, he recognized it as a warning nontheless.

“Thank you so much for helping me, Hux,” he said, quickly throwing things into his backpack. “But I’ve gotta go. I’ll ... I’ll catch up with you later.”

Hux nodded, and there was no mistaking how sad he now looked, at Ben’s imminent departure. “Okay,” he said, in a low voice; and then he suddenly perked up, as if remembering something, and said, brightly, “See you in the morning!”

Except he didn’t.

At about 5:30am, Ben texted him saying that he was going to go jogging, and the key would be under the mat again in case he wasn’t back in time.

And he didn’t intend to be back in time.

The chilly morning air was like a slap in the face as Ben ran around and around campus, his headphones in his ears, his heart pumping away. He kept himself going until long after sunrise, to ensure that he wouldn’t run into Hux. 

Hux.

With all of his damned questions, his curiosity, his good(?) intentions. 

With that easy smile, that stupid red hair, those eyes that were a brighter blue than this morning’s sky.

By the time Ben dragged himself back to his apartment, panting and tired, Hux was gone. But he had left evidence of his being there:

Sitting on Ben’s kitchen table was a good-sized, black leather-bound book. As Ben picked it up, something fell out of one of the blank pages and fluttered to the floor. Ben bent to pick it up curiously.

It was a photograph.

It was a small Polaroid photo, and evidently quite old, as the edges were curled up and bits of yellow were crusted along the sides. In it, there was a spectacularly green field covered by a misty gray sky, and beyond that a pond or a stream of some sort, the water crashing around a few small rocks.

Ben opened up the sketchbook. On the first page, in Hux’s flowing handwriting, was written:

**I took this picture about 13 years ago, when I was 6. It’s the Northern countryside of Ireland. This is from the first camera I ever had, an old Polaroid, that my mom gave me for a Christmas present the year before. This picture was taken the summer after they divorced. Me and my dad went to Ireland for one of my aunt’s funeral. Everyone was sad, but, being young, I didn’t really get the gravity of the situation. I was so excited to be in a new place, I ran all over taking pictures of anything I could find.**

**Eventually, I got in trouble when, on the day of the funeral, I ran up and took a picture of my aunt in her coffin. Everyone freaked out, and my dad was so angry he smashed the camera. And I didn’t get a new camera, or take any pictures, for a long time after that. Anytime I even thought of doing so, my stomach would twist into knots and my head would hurt.**

**Anyway ... I hope you can make use of this book. And, if you do, then in time, I’d REALLY love to see your drawings.**

**— H.**

—-

“Do you have a second, to talk?”

It was Ben who asked this, sitting at his kitchen table, a fresh pot of coffee made up just for Hux.

The past week had been strange. Ben had never acknowledged the photograph or the sketchbook to Hux, and Hux, believing that he had overstepped his bounds, didn’t dare bring them up. He still came over every morning, only now it was the standard that Ben would be gone, out jogging, and the key would be under the mat.

Today, though, was different. Hux had just bent to retrieve the key when the door had opened on its own, startling him. Ben has been standing there, fully dressed, with a largely unreadable expression on his face.

Hux had come in, taken his picture, and then was summoned into the kitchen, sitting down across from Ben warily.

“Of course,” Hux said now to Ben’s inquiry, sitting up straight in his chair. “What’s up?”

Ben stood up and began pacing, and talking.

“I have stuff I need to say to you. A lot of stuff, actually.”

“O-okay?”

“Okay. Well. First, thank you for that book. It’s really very ... lovely, for lack of a better term. Both the book and the fact that you thought enough about me to get it for me.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, I just —“

“It’s not ‘just nothing’!”, Ben exclaimed, slamming his fist down on the table. Hux flinched, and his coffee cup jiggled and spilt a little on the table. In a daze, he reached behind him to the counter, grabbing a paper towel and wiping yo the mess. But Ben didn’t even seem to notice, as he went on:

“It’s not ‘just nothing’, because it means something to me, Hux. This is gonna sound pathetic but, okay, I’m not used to this. I’m not used to being close to someone, the way I feel close to you. And I’ve had time to think about it, and what that means. And Hux — I drew. I _drew!_. You know, not being able to draw feels a LOT like what I think writers block must feel like. It’s like ... like being constipated. So many thoughts about what you want to do but nothing will come out. And the more it doesn’t come out, the more you start to doubt whether you can do it anymore.”

Here he paused, uttering a jagged, nervous chuckle, and Hux had to wonder whether or not this rant was the result of a LOT of sleepless nights.

“But, Hux, I opened up that book and I started to draw. And some of it sucks, sure, and lots of it is rusty; but most of it is beautiful. At least, it is to me. I think I’ve already filled up half of the book.”

He stood up and ran into the living room, returning in a few moments with a piece of paper.

“I drew this one for you,” he said, softly, handing it to Hux.

Hux took it gingerly, and gasped. It was an incredibly detailed, hyper-realistic sketch of himself. No photograph that he took could possibly convey more than this drawing. In it, Hux was standing on Ben’s balcony, behind his camera, snapping a picture of a glorious sunrise. Ben had drawn himself standing behind him, leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded across his chest as he watched. He was smiling.

While Hux was staring at it in awe, flabbergasted, not sure how to say what he was thinking, Ben shocked him by saying, quietly but firmly,

“Today ... I have two classes. My last one ends at 4:30. I was ... I’m hoping that, if you have nothing to do later, you and I can spend some time together.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean ... I ... I guess this is me, asking you, o-on a date?”

Hux honestly couldn’t recall how to open his mouth and form words for a few moments. When he finally could, all he could get out was a barely-articulate “Huh?”

“Listen ... I don’t know if this sort of thing is your deal or not. I don’t know if it’s MY deal or not. But I’m tired of being too scared to give things a try, or giving up things that could make me happy.”

“Ben —“

“And you know what? I’m not doing it anymore, Hux! I’ve made an appointment with my guidance councilor for tomorrow morning, and I intend to talk to him about what I need to major in, to get into graphic design.”

“Ben —“

“Because _this_ ,” he said, reaching across the table and thumping on the picture he’d given Hux, “Makes me _happy_. And I want to wake up every morning excited to go to a job that makes me HAPPY. Don’t I deserve that, the same as everyone deserves that? Don’t —“

“BEN!”, Hux shouted, standing up and putting his hands on Ben’s shoulders and forcing him to look at him. “Shut up for a second. Yes, to all of that. But especially the first part.”

Ben stood up as well, somewhat shakily.

“The first part? Wait ... you mean ...”

Slowly, hesitantly, Hux pulled himself closer into Ben, put both hands on his cheeks, and pulled him into a soft kiss. Ben’s heart gave a ba-thump so loudly that he was positive Hux could hear it.

“I’ve been killing myself, trying to think of a way to ask YOU out, for weeks,” Hux confessed as he pulled away, blushing. “I’m so glad you asked me first.”

Ben didn’t immediately reply; instead, he folded Hux into his arms, hugging him warmly. 

“So ... a date. I haven’t been on a date in years,” Ben said teasingly, when he released the redhead. “What do people do on them?”

Hux laughed, shaking his head. “Honestly, I’m not sure, either. But maybe ... we can talk about it? I’ve got to be honest; I’m dying to see the rest of your sketches.”

Ben laughed as well, reaching out and taking Hux’s hand.

“Come on,” he said, tugging him into the living room. “I’ll show you.”


End file.
